He sighs. “Ton chtýpise i malakía sto kefáli.”
I have no idea what that means, but I’m guessing it’s not particularly flattering. “You bring in your cargo by plane, don’t you? Where do those planes land?”
He gets out of his seat and paces the cramped space before kicking a half-empty crate of condensed milk cans. “I’m going to regret this.”
“You won’t. I’ll owe you.”
He snorts. “Unless you’re the luckiest man in the world, it’s highly likely you’ll be dead within a week.”
“Not if you help us get out.”
A few seconds tick by while he stares at me, just shaking his head like he thinks I’m out of my fucking mind.
I probably am.
Courtesy of the woman on the other side of the wall.
At last, Orrin sighs. He grabs a pen and starts writing a string of numbers on a pink Post-it note. “Fine. I want a hundred grand wired to this account in the next forty-eight hours. We use an airfield about an hour out of the city. There’s a cargo plane leaving in two hours.”
I take the Post-it from him and put it in my pocket. “You can get us on it?”
“It won’t be a comfy ride.”
“Where is it flying?”
“Crete. I have a house there where you could stay. That’ll be another ten grand. A week. And I’ll have to tell Kal about this eventually. Maybe it’ll slip my mind when he and I talk in a week, but after that, I have to tell him, or I’ll be in deep shit. So you’ll have some time before he knows where to find you.”
Which means so will Dem if he thinks to ask. Kal won’t go running to Dem on his own with this information—we have enough of a friendship between us for him to keep his mouth shut for as long as he can—but it’s not a risk I can take.
“Deal. We’ll move somewhere else as soon as Gemma’s doing better.”
Orrin points his thumb toward the door. “You sure your precious cargo out there will go along with the plan?”
Gemma’s going to take some convincing, but I’m getting her out of here. She may not have canceled her engagement yet, but she will. When we’re far away from here, I’ll make her understand that her place is with me.
That girl is mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.
“She took two oxycontin for the pain. I’m hoping it will make her more agreeable to what I’m about to tell her.”
Orrin laughs dryly. “And what happens once those wear off?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“Your funeral.” He picks up his phone. “I need to call the pilot and tell him to wait for you. You should go talk to her now.”
I stand up. “Thank you. I won’t forget this.”
He waves me off, and I leave the office, praying Gemma’s groggy enough to maybe have taken a nap, but nothing’s ever that easy. She’s holding her tea mug in her palms, taking tentative sips.
“Where’s Orrin?” she asks when she sees me.
“He had to make a call.”
My palms are clammy as I pull out the chair beside Gemma and sit down. She’s changed into a white T-shirt that says Poet’s Café in a cursive green font and a pair of black slacks that are at least two sizes too big for her. At least the shoes seem to fit.
“Cute,” I say, bumping her knee.
Her lips twitch, but her eyes stay sad. Cazzo. I can’t stand seeing her like this. I wish there were a way for me to absorb all her pain so that I could free her from the burden. I’ve done enough things in my life to deserve that kind of punishment. She hasn’t.
“What now?” she asks in a soft voice.
Now, I fight for what I want.
“Your father was arrested after we left.”
Her eyes widen. “What?”
“The Feds got him. Rafaele will probably take over as don in the interim until he manages to get your father out.”
Color leeches out of her face. “Oh my God. I can’t believe it’s happening.” She swallows. “I think we need to go back,” she says quietly, and I can sense her despair.
She doesn’t want to do it. She just needs someone to tell her that she doesn’t have to.
I reach for her hand. “We’re not going back. We’re leaving New York.”
She blinks at me. “We can’t.”
“Yes, we fucking can.”
“Ras—”
“Do you trust me?”
Her brows pinch together, but she nods anyway. “Yes, but—”
I lean closer, taking her chin between my fingers. “Then here’s the honest truth. Those things you said to me after I kissed you at Mari’s wedding? You were right about me, Gem. I’m not a man of honor. I don’t give a fuck that you’re engaged. I want you, and I’m taking you. It’s not a question. It’s a fucking statement. There’s no scenario where I’m taking you back to the assholes that have mistreated and manipulated you. You deserve better than them. Your papa deserves to rot in that fucking jail. Let them scramble. Let them try to sort out this fucking mess. But we’re not going to stick around for it. We’re leaving. Now. Do you understand?”
She’s breathing quickly, her eyes frantic as they scan my face. “What about Cleo? I can’t just leave her.”
“She’ll be fine with your mamma. You’ll be able to talk to her once we’re far away from here.”
“Ras, this is crazy.”
I shake my head. “You came to me last night. You wanted to be with me. Well, here’s our chance. And I’m taking it for both of us, because if I walk away from you right now, I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”
I’ve caused a lot of chaos throughout my life, and God knows, I’ve often paid a price for it. This time, the price might be my life. Once we get on that plane, we’ll be on our own. Messero and Garzolo will put a price on my head, and if anything goes wrong, I won’t have Damiano there to back me up.
I should be fucking terrified.
But I’m not.
The only thing I’m scared of is hearing Gemma say no.
She’s quiet for a few long seconds, during which I tell myself I’ll carry her onto that plane against her will if I have to.
But then she takes my hand and presses a light kiss against my lips. “Okay.” Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “Let’s do it. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 28
GEMMA
I’m running away and breaking off my engagement.
In the past, whenever I had dared to imagine doing something like this, the decision came with immediate, catastrophic consequences. I’d never considered the possibility that those consequences might be delayed, and that for a while, all I’d feel is pure bliss.
It’s disorienting. Papà’s not flying off the handle, my body isn’t being pummeled, and Mamma’s not telling me what a disappointment I am.
Instead, I’m tucked against Ras’s side, his arm warm and heavy around my shoulders, while the engine of the cargo plane makes a steady hum.
This plane isn’t like any I’ve been on before. It’s completely utilitarian, devoid of any windows or seats. Stacked crates of God knows what are securely attached to the locks built directly into the floor.